


A Story Of Love

by OhBelieveYouMe



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Relationship(s), fluffy stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 19:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10342704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhBelieveYouMe/pseuds/OhBelieveYouMe
Summary: If they were two books in the library; they’d have never found each other on the shelves. Even if the most careless of curators fumbled with their covers, just checked the first page- it’d be quite obvious upon first or second glance that they simply did not belong together. Her fiction to his non; they’d have been separated since the beginning, duped by the sadistic Dewey Decimal system.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been pretty consistently writing fan fiction about Raul Esparza for months now... [figured I'd give something new a shot](http://ohbelieveyoume.tumblr.com/post/158523829042/dr-spencer-reid-story-of-love).

If they were two books in the library; they’d have never found each other on the shelves. Even if the most careless of curators fumbled with their covers, just checked the first page- it’d be quite obvious upon first or second glance that they simply did not belong together. Her fiction to his non; they’d have been separated since the beginning, duped by the sadistic Dewey Decimal system. 

Spencer Reid- stowed away in the 000s, reference and encyclopedias.  
Bethany Stevens- slid in amidst the 800s, literature.

Her spine was thin, had been opened and creased by adoring readers plenty of times before; a classic, a book of poems, blessed and Holy as Psalms. His was stiff, mostly kept closed- made more for recordation and reference than actual literary entertainment.

She enjoyed him, though. That was enough. More than enough.

And yet, while thinking back over all the books he’d ever read, he’s never loved a story as much as he loved her…

* * *

He met her on accident, but she told him months later that she attributed it to ‘fate’. Funny how he’d never considered coincidences as more than just that until he met her.

Spencer had been busy reading his newest mystery novel, far too focused in the fresh pages to be watching where he was headed. That was fine, though, the corridors were so familiar to him at this point- which was how he knew to stiffen his arm so he would be able to open that glass door…

His hand didn’t find the door.  
In fact, it didn’t find anything.

Spencer stumbled over his own feet out of surprise- where had the door gone? Haplessly, his book fell from his hands, to the floor, he watched it go until it landed face down on a rug.

And also on that rug, right beside his literature, was a foot in a black stiletto.

Without properly acknowledging the rest of the body attached to it, Spencer went to complaining while crouching to retrieve his reading material. “Why did you hold the door open?”

“Most people would say ‘thank you’.”

Did his comment really require all that sass? “I didn’t need you to-” he spoke while raising his gaze; up from that faux leather size 7 knockoff shoe and up, past the crystalline charms hanging from a gold chain around her ankle and up, beyond the purple wool pencil skirt with a modest slit on the side so he could see her knee and up, to the black chiffon blouse billowing in the AC and buttoned all the way to her throat and up, to her face.

Wow, her face; she was… stunning.

Stunning, and glaring. Apparently quite figuratively both, he could barely bring himself to move any more and her squint gave him the feeling she was annoyed… likely, with him.

“You weren’t watching where you were going.”

His brows rose as he went to conjuring a proper defense: “I knew where I was going, I’ve memorized these halls, I know quite precisely… approximately how many steps it takes to reach…” He was cut off when he heard giggling, a sharp contrast to his rather real annoyance. “What’s so funny?”

“Precisely Approximately?”

“I-” he flinched, “I realized my mistake…”

“Do you always speak before thinking it through?”

“N-No…” This felt like a trap, so Spencer took a familiar route and adopted an annoyed tone: “Can I help you? Are you lost?”

His sarcasm made her eyes go wide, and she shook her head while laying fingertips atop his shoulder. A pat, and he crunched his nose in indignation- he felt like a pup instead of a man when she pet at him like that. Did she mean to be condescending? Was she trying to assert herself?

“It’s going to be a delight working with you, Doctor.”

Then she left, flitted on past him as mysteriously as she had arrived, and Spencer couldn’t help himself- he watched her saunter away. Her steps were light, she grazed the frames of old paintings with her knuckles and walked slower when she came upon particularly interesting ones. For some reason, he found himself increasingly uninterested with the book he had been so busy studying.

No, he was now much more fascinated with a new mystery…

* * *

She came into the conference room with Penelope, nodding thoughtfully as she chattered away about computer programs and identification systems they had recently updated. Naturally, their familiar tech guru was doing most of the talking, but she didn’t seem to mind- after taking a seat, the girl Spencer had met meticulously set her notepads and writing utensils on the table, studiously jotted down a few words.

What was she writing?

Unfortunately, he was trapped in that consideration for most of their briefing. There had been no explanation as to her presence, or why she was joining them, but she did take notes the entire time. 

After they all were dismissed, most of the detectives flooded into the hallway, having much more important things to do than bother with the new face. Penelope was working hard to wrap up the technology that had been utilized, and Spencer made a calculated point of meandering by where this mystery girl was seated.

He lay his hand on the back of her chair; “Hi, I’m so sorry for earli-”

“Oh!” Apparently he startled her, she nearly jumped out of her seat in surprise before spinning around to face him. “Oh, no, you’re fine- I actually was lost,” she scrambled up to her feet, gathering her and Penelope’s notepads in her arms and hugging them tight to her chest. “I’m sorry, I need some java, I’m still half asleep…”

Opportunity came knocking, and Spencer knew he’d be an idiot not to open the door. “Would…” His eyes fell to the floor instead of on her, back to the shoes he had seen earlier, “Do you like coffee?”

The pretty stranger cocked her head to the side, an amused twinkle in her eye. “Coffee? Yes, yes I do.”

Great. This _was_  going great, right? “Me too,” he smiled her way and thought the air dissipated when she beamed right back at him.

By the way she stared, Spencer could tell she was expecting something, but before he could muster the bravery to keep talking she intervened- "Maybe we both could like coffee together, sometime?”

“Oh!” It felt like he was being spoon fed lines, not that he minded; “Yes, yes; would you want to… Uhm…”

Penelope was dying, practically vibrating with anticipation as she eavesdropped into the awkward conversation. “Spencer,” There was nothing subtle about how she tugged on his arm, forced him to her height so she could ” _whisper_ ” very loudly in his ear; “maybe you and Bethany should get coffee… together…“

At the mere suggestion, a hot blush rose to his cheeks.  
This story took an interesting twist.

Realizing he wouldn’t be much willing to go _there_  himself, benevolent Bethany sweetly bent at the waist to force herself into his view. “I’d love that, Dr. Reid.”

“Bethany,” he repeated the new name just as Penelope had stated it, and straightened his spine to try and feign confidence. “I’d really like that, too… but please, call me Spencer…”

* * *

Since that day, their mutual ‘like’ of coffee had become the bridge to bringing them together. Mostly, she did the talking, and he had no qualms about listening to every fascinating tidbit she had to share. She was Penelope’s new assistant, she believed in astrology more than any religion, and she took her coffee with two sugars and a cream. Her mother was her best friend, she liked to read magazines for the advice columns, and she was afraid of the dark. 

Every word, each and every useless bit of information had him hooked; Spencer could happily sit and listen to her for hours, did just that on multiple occasions. Compared to her, he thought he was so boring, but she’d prompt conversation effortlessly; she made him feel as if he were actually interesting.

On one of their little joint trips to the cafe around the corner, Bethany decided to bring up something that had apparently been on her mind; “We’ve been having these coffee hours for weeks now,” Her gaze had fallen, to the checkered print of the tablecloth. Spencer wondered what was going on behind those nervous eyes. “And you still ask if I’ll meet with you.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Don’t you think it’s pretty… trite?”

Trite? Not really. Spencer actually quite enjoyed their little coffee conversations, didn’t she? “… You’re free to say 'no’ if you want to-”

“No, no, that’s not…” She interrupted his contrition, reached across to lay her hand over his. Aside from when they walked too close- this was the first time they had intentionally touched, he marked the day in his memory bank. Her fingertips grazed his knuckles, and she sighed; this was much more difficult than she thought it would be. “Spencer, I just… do you have coffee times like this with anyone else?”

He couldn’t rip his stare from where she touched him, he was so distracted he barely considered how odd her question was. “No, I always ask you.”

“And when I say no?” There were very, very few times she had been too busy to join him- but it did happen before.

That question, however, was simple to answer: “Then I don’t go.” Boldly, at least for him, Spencer slid his thumb out from under the weight of her hand, used it to trace the edge of her fingers from knuckle to nail. 

The barrier of touch had been breached, a new page had been turned- and he craved more.

Bethany bit her lip, and he thought the air was knocked out of him, how did every move she make seem so resplendent? “Spencer, you think… maybe… we could spend a little more time together?” Her voice faltered, he had to switch his attention to her face; she sounded nervous, damn near terrified. “I really find you quite fascinating, I’d love to… well…”

The words burned his throat, and he wasn’t even the one saying them- but even more than the fear of rejection was the desire to _not_ hear her falter so. Where was Penelope when he needed her outgoing nature to guide him along? “Would you… maybe get dinner with me? Sometime?” His nose crunched when he felt her eyes shoot up to his. “You don’t have to, I know you’re not obligated at all to spend time with me outside of work, and it’s easy when we’re just getting coffee down the street, but-”

“Spencer,” his name rattled him just enough to convince him to calm down, to take a breath, to wait. “Spencer, I’d love to… you mean a date, right?” It felt necessary to clarify the intentions of her surreptitious suitor.

At that, he choked on his coffee, and spluttered through a nod.

“I-I do…” 

This tale had turned out quite fascinating; a book he couldn’t put down.  
What else was in store within this tale? 

* * *

Dinner had turned into a weekly activity. Those weeks remained consistent through Springtime, tumbled into Fall, and they still wandered through the snowy streets when Winter came. Their close friendship was no longer secret- ever since the first time she gave him her hand to hold, it would take an act of God to force space between them any time she reached for him. Spencer listened to her read horoscopes, she nodded through his theories on philosophy, they shared benches at restaurants and he’d save her a seat for briefing meetings. 

It was going well, seamless and effortless, until one Summer day in the park…

“Why do you look at me like that?”

Spencer tilted his head to the side, how had he been looking at her? Admittedly, he had gotten a bit lost, somewhere between wondering if she had recently gotten a haircut or was wearing a different shade of lipstick, while studying the curve of her jaw and her plumped pout.

There was something different about her, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it-

“Like what?”

Her eyes squint, “Like you’re trying to figure me out, to read me.” Carefully, she hiked a leg over his lap, and placed knees on either side of his thighs.

Hoping to be helpful, Spencer lay his hands on the small of her back, wanting to keep her from falling off their shared seat. “What’s wrong with that? I like reading.”

She pressed her forehead to his, left a succinct peck of a kiss on his nose. Sweet and light, the mystery lipstick smelled like fruit and he adored it, yet still his curiosity remained unquenched. "I feel like one of your books,” fingertips skimmed through his hair, Spencer closed his eyes to savor her light touches, “what if you figure me all out and get bored?”

That was highly improbable. “I’ve never only read a book once.”

Oh, Bethany knew he didn’t mean to be sassy, but she would have preferred comfort more than a new fact to ponder on; “I’d get bored on a shelf.”

That caught him off guard, his grip tightened against the material of her sundress. Slowly, Spencer sighed, and leaned away so he could take another long look at her. “There’s just something different about you today.”

Now, their bewilderment was shared, she draped her arms over his shoulders and cocked her head to the side; the sun shone behind her like a halo of light. “Really? Like what?”

He pulled his lips between his teeth, squint his eyes to try and study her harder. What was it that was different- he hadn’t been able to figure that out yet. The pink lips seemed familiar enough, as did her daisy perfume and the way her touch sent electricity through his skin; Zeus in her fingertips. Now, knowing she was on display, she flirtatiously fluttered her fingers at him after propping her chin atop her knuckles; his discovery-driven trance was easily interrupted by her coy smile.

Yet still, it took him a few additional moments, some more thought and contemplation, which was harder than it sounded since he could barely hear anything over the deafening roar of his heartbeat. He wanted to speak, but no words would come, maybe it was because he was so tired. It had been awhile since he got a good night sleep, between late nights at the office and thinking of her… Oh.

The realization dawned over him, the color drained from his cheeks. Thoughtfully, he tore his gaze from her face, went to recalling a few articles he had read before. _Dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin, adrenaline_ : all chemicals he was all too knowledgeable in, considered often in his line of work- they ignited people, set them aflame.

Was that why it was suddenly _so_ hot?

“Spencer?” She scoot closer, until their bellies were flush together. “Spencer, what’s wrong?” Bethany’s head bowed, she found his cheek with hers and nuzzled nearer until she could speak directly into his ear. “You went white as a sheet.”

“Bethany,” even her name sounded different now, Holy almost, and he’d said it hundreds of time before. To her, to himself, to others. He curled his arms tighter around her waist, hoping to keep her right there- forever, at least through this odd feeling, as if he actually believed in something so silly as a 'forever’. How did this day dissolve in minutes, they had spent plenty of time together and he hadn’t felt this dire desperation until only minutes before? “Bethany, I’m confused.”

“You’re rarely anything less than aware,” lazily, she propped an elbow atop his shoulder, leaned her face into her palm; “what has you so confused?”

Spencer could only stare, had to squint to counteract the glare of the sun behind her; “I think I feel something but I don’t know.”

“Well,” thoughtfully, she pursed her lips, “what do you think you feel?”

She always was better than him when it came to things of the emotional nature, but he really didn’t know how to answer her. “There aren’t words for it-” At least, none he felt comfortable sharing.

“Spencer, there are words for everything.” At least she went back to smiling, it soothed his frazzled nerves just a bit. “You know most of them, in multiple tongues.”

“I don’t know this one.”

Sensing exactly how distraught he was, she left another kiss on his forehead, doing her best to soothe the thoughtful lines creasing his skin. “Don’t think too hard on it, then.” Delicately, Bethany  cupped his face up in her hands, forced his eyes on hers. "Just appreciate the unknown, with me.“

Funny, considering she **_was_** the unknown.  
If only he could take a peek ahead in their story, to better understand…

For now, though; Spencer quickly rocked forward to press his lips to hers, solve the mystery of that pretty pout he had been so curious about earlier, turn a page…

Peaches; the unknown tasted of peaches, and he could settle with that.  
For now.


End file.
